


Eight Candles

by bucketmouse



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: But don't tell him that, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Team as Family, scout's mom actually isn't a saint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucketmouse/pseuds/bucketmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from a year in the life of some members of the BLU team. Sometimes you can choose your family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight Candles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yukari (M_Peaches)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Peaches/gifts).



> With thanks to my usual beta.

i.......  
There were a couple things the Engineer expected when he signed up for Builder's League United. The first was a healthy paycheck. With that money, forget remodeling the family house - he could build a whole new one from the ground up. Not to mention funding for his projects - the second was just that. _Projects_. A chance to really stretch his limits, too. And not just in the way of "Make what you can off extra money from jobs and the scrap metal the salvage yard is happy to give you because it's a small town and everyone's a family friend of everyone here". Third was the people. The Engineer was a people-person, and he was looking forward to meeting a group of like minded results-driven go-getters like himself.

What he did not sign up for was to be anyone's goddamn babysitter.

"Who let the kid in?" were the first words the Engineer spoke to (well, in regards to) the Scout. That probably didn't set them off to a good start.

"I AIN’T NO KID I’M FUCKING OLD ENOUGH YOU GREY-HAIRED SENILE OLD-"

"Whoa there bucko, I don't think makin' enemies on the first day is the best idea." the Sniper said as he grabbed the boy by the back of the collar and hauled him back a few paces from where he had moved with the intent to probably hit the Engineer.

“I’m not a babysitter!” It would be the first of many times the Engineer would shout that. “Just keep the kid out of my lab!”

Two out of three would have to work.

ii......  
It wasn’t that the first mission went _badly_. They won, point in fact. It was just that, well.

Halfway through it, Engineer was fixing a sentry (sapped by a spy who was soon chased off and charbroiled by their enthusiastic pyro) nearby the briefcase. He was expecting just about everyone else to be out on the field, so the sound of footsteps coming his way had him jolt alert. Instead of an enemy invasion, however, he caught sight of Scout jogging by with a profusely bleeding head wound - to the point that the boy was clearly blinded in one eye from it.

“SAINTS ALIVE, KID, WHAT THE HELL?” The Engineer bellowed from his position by the sentry. He was on the scout’s current blind-side, so the boy jumped at the Engineer’s call, turning to look at him with his scattergun at the ready. He let out a sigh when he saw his own teammate, shoving the gun away. No one had yet gotten used to the idea that the Spy could look like any of them if he chose to.

“Ain’t nothing, okay?! Their sniper got a lucky shot is all!” the Scout said, waving his hand dismissively. His depth perception was off, so he ended up smacking his hand against one of the pipes. Behind his goggles, the Engineer couldn’t keep a glare off his face.

“You’re not going to be a help to anyone if you’re half-blind and half-unconscious from blood loss, get your ass to the Medic!”

Scout stiffened, glaring at the Engineer with his good eye. “You ain’t my fucking dad! Solly told me to just walk it off, it’s nothing!”

“You get your ass to Medic this instant or I swear to God boy we will figure out first hand if that respawn pad works!” The Scout jumped at the Engineer’s tone, and when he didn’t run off the older man yelled “GO!” pointing his wrench down the hall which would lead the Scout to the Medic, if he was still where the Engineer had last seen him.

That got the Scout running. Grumbling about mother hens and stupid old men, sure, but still heading to the medic while he was doing so. The Engineer cursed a blue streak under his breath, hitting the sentry with his wrench in frustration. He didn’t sign up to take care of a goddamn kid, but where the hell did the Soldier get off on telling him to ‘walk off’ that kind of injury? That kid had far more blood on his shirt than he should have, and _furthermore_ , it wasn’t being a mother hen it was basic human decency.

Sons of bitches, he was gonna make sure that sniper got a turret to his goddamn crow’s nest.

iii.....  
As the days wore on, it was predictable that they all began to settle into team roles. Friendships, rivalries, and partnerships were forming, and they became less like a group of people hired to do the same job and more like a team. That didn’t necessarily mean they had to get along perfectly or even like each other, but it was enough to compromise to a situation that held the least hostility possible during downtime.

Because only a few of them were morning people and actually awake for breakfast, and most everyone was in a 'stuff your face and run back out' for lunch, dinner was by default the most colorful period of the night when it came to interacting.

“Don’t give the kind your goddamn moonshine, Demoman, he’s too young to drink. How old are you, boy?” Engineer asked at the dinner table, interrupting the inebriated demolitions expert as he was halfway through passing Scout the bottle.

“DON’T ANSWER THAT, SOLDIER!” Solider yelled, in unison everyone raised their drink off the table just before he slammed his hands down on it so hard his helmet almost fell off his head, and the cheap wooden slab moved a few inches to the left. “SPIES COULD BE ANYWHERE! NO NAMES, NO BACKGROUNDS!”

Their own Spy, lighting up his after-dinner cigarette with a disgusted look, kicked the table back into place.

“We are not ‘on the clock’ so to speak, _mon camarade dans des bras._ ” he pointed out, leaning back into his chair and exhaling the smoke. “The first rule of theater is _not_ ‘the show must go on’, but ‘don’t give them a show they didn’t pay for’. I highly doubt my counterpart will be snooping around when he is not expressively getting paid to do so. I wouldn’t. Besides, if the garçon is old enough to fight and die, he is old enough to drink. Though I wouldn’t recommend the swill that our explosive-loving friend favors.”

With no protests from anyone but Engineer, the Demoman shoved the bottle in Scout’s hand, scoffing at the Spy’s statement. “I’ll have you know-” he leveled his finger at Spy’s left shoulder, or somewhere just past it. “This is the finest moonshine the bathtub has to offer. It also doubles as a gun cleaner! Let’s see your champagne-” he pronounced it sham-pag-nay, laughing when the Spy visibly flinched. “-Do that!”

“ _Che_ , I favor wine, not _champagne._ The first thing I am buying with my money is a bottle of Altesse.”

While they talked, Scout took a swallow from the bottle, which got the boy coughing up a storm and the rest of the team laughing.

“Altesse? French fruit juice!” the Heavy said with a chuckle, patting Spy on the back with the intent to be friendly, but it still knocked the man forward so hard he almost face-planted on the table. “Stolichnaya, any day of the week! No silly rules about age for it in Russia, even little children learn to hold it. Good for the warmth, da?”

“And people wonder why alcoholism is such a prevalent problem in 'the motherland'.” The Engineer said dryly. “I'm not sayin' there's a problem with a beer now and then, but there are lines and moonshine is on the other side of it.”

“I agree with ze Engineer.” the Medic said, leaning against the counter rather than sitting at the table. His tea was steeping, and he intended to retire to bed right after that. “'In all things, moderation'. If ze Scout dies of liver failure I am holding you responsible, Demoman.”

“He won't die of liver failure!” Demoman yelled, patting Scout on the back as he took another drink and coughed so hard the Engineer scooted back from the table in case the boy's stomach decided that it was better forcibly empty than downing whatever was in that bottle.

While Pyro had his own commentary to add to their discussion, complete with expansive hand gestures, no one could really tell exactly what he was trying to say. The Medic patiently waited for him to finish before making a 'tut-tut' sound and shooing him. “Get to bed, I will bring you some warm milk in a moment.”

What followed was a distinct (if muffled) “Yay!”, with Pyro clapping his hands and running off. They all watched him go. Scout was the first to break the silence that followed in the wake of that display.

“...I really think... that guy is completely batshit insane.”

Later that evening, the Engineer was up late working on one of his many projects when he heard a sound. He instantly identified the source of it: Just like he thought, the Scout couldn’t hold his alcohol and was now sick as a dog. Engineer found him bent over the toilet, face flushed and shivering, mumbling something about how he was never going to listen to Demoman about the moonshine ever again. From the smell of it, most of the vomiting was over.

Engineer looped his arm around the boy’s waist without a word, ignoring any feeble protests and dragging him back to his room. At least Scout didn’t complain for long, whether or not he realized that the Engineer was trying to help him or just figured it was better to not argue was up in the air. The only fussing he gave was flinching when the Engineer used a damp rag to clean his face off after putting the boy in bed. Though he tried to mumble something, he was about as understandable as their Pyro..

“What was that, kid?” Engineer muttered, keeping his voice as low as he could manage while still being understandable.

“M’not twenty-one.” Scout repeated, louder this time. He squeezed his eyes shut. “You were right.”

Engineer sighed, shaking his head. Well, that much was obvious. He grabbed the wastebasket from the other corner of the room and dragged it over to the Scout’s bedside.

“You want alcohol so bad, you can have a beer of mine _sometimes_ , but for godssakes kid, don’t drink what that Scottish cyclops gives you. How he survives drinking so much of it I have no idea.”

“Yessir.”

“Just... stay here. Sleep on your side, not your back - don’t want you choking on your own vomit if you get sick again. I’m going to get you some vitamins and some water, you take both, alright? I’m right down the hall if you need me.”

Scout nodded feebly, curling up onto his side.

“...Thanks, old man.”

iiii....  
From then on the Engineer couldn’t get rid of the Scout. It wasn’t that he was even nice to him, exactly. He still ordered the kid around, still yelled at him twice as much as the rest of the team combined did.

Things went to hell in a hand basket for a few weeks when the RED Spy broke into the base. Sure, he’d killed everyone and taken the briefcase and that was a depressing failure in of itself, but he’d also left most of _their_ Spy’s photos out - which meant commenting on Scout’s mom was the _en vogue_ thing for quite some time.

As Engineer found out during that time, the subject of the boy’s mom was a sensitive topic even without that added embarrassment. Not a single day went by without the token screaming of “MY MOTHER IS A SAINT!!!!!!!!” from somewhere in the base, quickly followed by the track-shoes slamming against the hallway floors as Scout ran into the Engineer’s workshop to hide there for the rest of the off-hours, fuming with anger. Because of that, the ‘Keep the fucking kid out of my fucking workshop’ rule had to be amended to ‘just don’t touch anything’, which was soon amended to ‘if you’ve gotta mess with stuff just ask me what to do and I’ll make you dick around with something harmless’. Scout still spent the first few minutes grumbling about the goddamn dirty Spy taking advantage of his poor defenseless ma (not mentioned was Engineer’s thought that she didn’t look THAT defenseless), but after that he seemed to quite enjoy the distraction in assisting the Engineer’s work.

...And, as it turned out, when he was able to get the kid to sit down, shut up, and FOCUS, he was actually pretty smart.

iiiii...  
“The boy just baffles the shit out of me.” the Engineer told their Spy, during a slow period of a mission while the Frenchman was hanging around waiting for the other team’s Pyro to drop off the offensive after a bad turn and a brush with painful fiery death.

“I do not see what is so ‘ard to believe, dear Tourne-à-gauche.” the Spy said, lighting up one of his cigarettes like the chain smoker he was. “He is grossly simple. Boy raised as the youngest of eight, no father figure to speak of, on a team of eight older men he is seeking the company most of the one who gives him guidelines, rules, and discipline.” the Spy exhaled the smoke, watching it haze in the fluorescent lights. “He is forming a substitute attachment to you in response to his lack of a father figure, because you best represent what he believes one should be.”

The Engineer was speechless for a moment at the Spy’s frank delivery of the situation - the facts that he has just presented were still sinking in.

“How d’you know that about him?” The Engineer asked, “We aren’t supposed to discuss personal life outsida’ here, and I sure as hell don’t believe he would have told you anyway.” Scout was actually very loudly on no speaking terms with their Spy.

The other man shrugged.

“I hacked everyone’s files. It seemed prudent when it became apparent that my rival had done the same. So, if you’ll excuse me, Monsieur Conagher.” Spy stood then, pulling his suit jacket on and deftly buttoning it shut before smoothing out any wrinkles that were in it. Image was everything.

iiiiii..  
The Engineer stood outside of the Scout’s room, fist poised just an inch from the door as he considered whether or not he should knock or if t very idea was stupid. He heard the rhythmic thumping inside of Scout throwing his baseball against the wall, so he knew the kid was still there. Medic and Heavy had already left early yesterday, and everyone else was clearing out, too.

Engineer decided. He opened the door, knocking while he did so. There, polite.

The Scout looked ready to tell Engineer to go the fuck away, but seeing who it was, he actually sat up and gave the man a grin and his full attention.

“What’s up, Engie?”

“I don’t know an easy or polite way to say this, kid, so I’ll just say it. Every time we get a break to go back home from this job, you’re the last one out and first one back, which makes me wonder if you even go home at all. Now it’s not my business what you do with your time or what you have going on at home that you want to avoid, but we got two weeks and if you aren’t going home, you’re packing your shit and coming back with me. Letting a kid be alone on Christmas don’t sit right with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the argument he knew was coming. Though, as he had to be getting used to by now, it was not in the way he was expecting.

“...I’M JEWISH, YOU JERK.” The Scout yelled.

“A holiday is a holiday. Train I take leaves in an hour and a half, if you aren’t there I promise there will be hell to pay. Now _pack!_ ” Engineer slammed the door shut behind him to end the conversation then and there.

Jewish, why the fuck didn’t the Spy mention that? Frenchie bastard. He’d have to call ahead to alert the family of a plus-one possibly tagging along, and see if anyone knew anything about Hanukkah back at home.

An hour and a half later, the Engineer was standing at the platform and watching the train roll on in. It didn’t pause for long, there was only passengers to pick up here and scant few ones at that. So far, no Scout. The Engineer wondered if he had pushed too far, assumed too much that the kid would just listen to him. Then, over the sound of the whistle blowing, came the cry of “HEY! WAIT UP! I’M COMIN’!”

...The Scout was _outrunning the train_ , duffel bag over his shoulder and dog tags clattering around his neck. He was running all the way from the base to the train stop, taking the steps up to the platform three or four at a time, jumping over the railing. He came to a stop next to the Engineer a full minute before the train followed, bent over and gasping for air from the full sprint with no warm-up.

The Engineer grinned, patting the Scout on the back. “I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.”

“Yeah, I’m - sorry. I couldn’t find my jacket. So – Bee Cave, Texas, right? Does that mean there's an actual cave full of bees?”

“Yes, stop asking.”

iiiiiii.  
The train ride was uneventful, Scout slept through most of it, though even then the boy was a fitful sleeper. It looked like there was no way to keep him still for longer than a few seconds, no matter what the circumstances. He woke just long enough to transfer between trains as needed – in doing so they split off from just about everyone else, though they rode with Soldier the longest. This wasn't really a plus, he kept muttering and getting stares, and Engineer was a little thankful of Soldier's insistence that they not sit too close together for fear THE ENEMY may recognize them.

By the time the train dropped them off in Texas, it was nighttime out. This far out from the cities, the sky was bright as anything with a hundred stars lighting it up. The Scout seemed amazed by it even still. He'd mentioned once that you couldn't see any stars at his home, so he liked seeing them when they were at the base.

“I should warn you, my sister Dorothy is … very welcoming. She'll insist on feeding you. A lot.” the Engineer said with a shrug, pulling off his goggles and shoving them into his bag. The Scout laughed.

“You got a sister? What about a wife or kids?”

“Divorced, no children. Dorothy has about four, though – three girls and a boy, they're all probably much younger than you. Come to think of it I don't know if there will be anyone your age around, sorry.” Not for the first time it occurred to the Engineer that he merely mentally listed Scout's age as 'the youngest one, probably' without much thought to what that meant.

“That's alright!” The Scout said with a grin. “I like kids!”

He hung back a few steps behind the Engineer when he approached the family's house. It was large – traditionally built with plenty of remodels and additions made recently. One of the girls was getting old enough to get her own room, so Engineer was planning on using some of his time back on getting that addition built. Most of the lights were off aside from the ones that came from the den, it was late enough that the children would be asleep. He removed one of the thick gloves he war to ward away the cold, needing to knock only twice on the door before it was flung open with such force it seemed it might fly off the hinges. The woman there looked about the Engineer's age or perhaps a little older, though already showing laugh lines on her face. Short and a little overweight, everything about her said 'midwestern housewife'.

“DELL!” the woman cried, hugging the engineer fiercely – Scout figured that was probably Dorothy, he could see the family resemblance between the two of them.

“Goodness it's so great to see you! The kids have been asking about you – oh! This must be your friend! Where are my manners? I'm Dorothy, Dell's big sister. What's your name?”

Dell realized, suddenly, that he'd just been thinking of the Scout's name as 'Scout', and had no idea what his actual name was.

The Scout coughed, holding out his hand and standing up a little straighter.

“William Donovitz. Nice to meet you, ma'am.”

Rather than a handshake, Dorothy pulled the Scout - _William_ \- into a hug as well.

“Aren't you just _cute as a button_? Goodness I hope my boy grows up with half your manners, come on in and out of that chill Billy – can I call you Billy?” she didn't wait for an answer, taking his hand and leading him inside. Dell chuckled, following her in. “You're so tall, too! How old are you, Dell didn't say?”

“I'll be eighteen next May, ma'am.” Billy stammered out, giving Dell a faintly panicked look. He didn't want to offend Dorothy, but the woman was a hurricane, cheerfully dragging him over to the couch and all but shoving him to sit on it. An instant later, somehow, a mug of hot cocoa appeared in his hands.

“Eighteen! That's a very important age for a young man! Dell told us you were Jewish too – we have a Jewish family in town so I was able to ask them what kinda food to cook for you and they said they'd be more than happy to have us all over for one big two-family celebration for the start of Hanukkah, I figure we could go to mass in the morning – you don't have to come if you don't feel comfortable with it Billy but we would love to have you just the same, our church is very welcoming – come back, open presents, and be able to make it over with time to spare if there aren't any disasters. Goodness I hope the girls behave themselves I think they should and I do want them to learn about other faiths, I think that's very important that children grow up multicultural, don't you?”

William stared at her, eyes as wide as saucers. Dell had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing outright, and the strain of that damn near brought tears to his eyes.

“...Yes?” William ventured, after a moment. Dorothy beamed.

“Yes! Absolutely, you just sit tight and get comfortable, the little tykes are in bed already but you can meet them tomorrow, they'll be very excited. You're such a handsome young man the girls will just love you. Dell doesn't have any kids but they've always wanted an older cousin.”

In the time it took for them to get Dell's things in his room and William settled into the guest room, then settling in for a late dinner, Dell had already learned more about William's life than he'd ever had in all their time working together. The Boston boy grew up in the Old Harbor Housing Project but with his money he bought and paid in full a nice house for his mom in the suburbs. He talked about his brothers – two eldest factory workers now, third eldest the first in the family to go to college (“math, he's smart, you'd probably like him”), fourth eldest hitch-hiking across the USA with only a guitar and the clothes on his back, and the next three a set of triplets jokingly called Huey, Dewey, and Louie, all enlisted men and part of the 413th Flight Test Group for the Airforce. His dad was career military, too – home before the war ended, but didn't stay. He volunteered for one final special mission and came back from it in a casket. It was his dog-tags William always wore. While he couldn't speak more highly of his mother, Dell couldn't help but think that his opinion was unlikely to be the gospel truth. Dorothy still thought it was sweet, though. Of course she would, she was a mother herself.

iiiiiiii  
The two weeks they were in Texas passed too fast. Billy took to Bee Cave like a fish to water, basking in the attention that being from the city brought him. There was far more space out there than he was used to, which meant a lot of pick-up games of baseball. By the end of the week he'd taught all of Dorothy's kids (even the girls) how to play a mean game and where you could cheat and get away with it. Dell's sister had even spent the first seven days quite determinedly working on a present for William, giving him a brilliant blue cable-knit sweater for the eighth day of Hanukkah and telling him he was as good as family and family was always welcome in their home.

William didn't cry, but he did 'get dust in his eye'.

Billy – Scout, he'd have to remember to call him that now, Dell had to remind himself – was still wearing it even as they were waiting at the last station before they would board the train that would take them back to base. He claimed it was just because it was warm, but Dell could see how he smiled when he looked at it, and thought no one was paying attention.

“You should really go see your ma next time you get a chance to go home, you know.” Dell said after a moment of silence as the two sat on a bench and waited for the train. At Billy's quickly alarmed then disappointed expression, Dell cursed under his breath and patted the kid on the back.

“I'm not saying you aren't always welcome, but your mother probably misses you, don't you think? … Then after you see her, catch a train down to Texas. I'll catch holy Hell from Dorothy's brats if I come back without you.”

“You know, _Conducteur_ , if you feed a stray animal and give it shelter, you'll never be able to get rid of it.” Though the differences were subtle, neither of the men would ever mistake one Spy's voice for another. Billy was on his feet in an instant, screaming obscenities at the man dressed in red standing just within earshot of them. He didn't have his weapons on him but he was about ready to resort to the brawling he was no doubt quite experienced with. Somehow, God willing, the Engineer managed to grab hold of Scout's arm before he took a swing at the Spy and dragged him back. Billy might have been unarmed, but he had no doubt that the Red Spy was NOT in the same boat. He stood straight-backed, smirking. “As loathe as I am to discuss personal life at work, there is no need to worry about your _maman_ being lonely over the holidays.”

Something inside the Engineer snapped then and there. He shoved the Scout back and out of the way, only to haul back and clock the Spy straight across the jaw as hard as he could. It knocked the other man to the ground, though he had no doubt that was at least partly from surprise.

“You listen here, Spook–“ Dell's voice was low and dangerous, and Billy was pretty sure he had never seen the other man so angry. Not even when he'd accidentally broken part of one of the engineer's prototype machines. “What happens on the field is just business and ain't none of mine. You got a fight out there I don't really give a shit aside from how much I'm paid to care. But if I _ever_ catch you talkin' about the boy's mother _again_ I promise you it will _become_ personal and I will make sure your ass is charbroiled to a fine Cajun consistency of which even a respawn won't be able to fix.”

Turning and grabbing hold of Billy's arm, Dell all but dragged him away from the Spy to find another place in the station to wait. He was fuming mad right now – no one screwed with his family and like it or not, that's what Billy was now.

“Uh- yo, old man, you – you okay?” Billy asked, once they had moved to a lower level of the station, quiet and empty save for the two of them and a dilapidated soda machine that had seen better days.

“I'm _fine!_ ” Dell barked, then took a breath and repeated, far more calmly, “I'm fine, don't worry about it. How much longer until the train gets here, kid?”

“'Bout an hour.”

“More than enough time. Get my blueprint paper from my bag, Pyro's gonna be getting a plasma flamethrower for New Year.”


End file.
